The Disturbing Christmas Incident
by Tres Mechante
Summary: Calling something ‘disturbing’ is not necessarily a bad thing.


**Title:** The Disturbing Christmas Incident

**Author:** Très Méchante

**Characters/Pairing:** Grissom/Sara

**Summary:** Calling something 'disturbing' is not necessarily a bad thing.

**Rating:** Teen

**Spoilers:** Not really, but all Season 8 is fair game.

**Word Count:** 1610 approx.

**Warning:** Um…fluffy? Not season 9 compliant.

**Disclaimer:** Well, the story is mine, but the characters, most assuredly, are not.

**Archive:** Only with permission.

**Inspired by:** "The Disturbing Christmas Incident" by Ben Folds

* * *

It was only 2:57 a.m. according to the alarm clock, but Sara was no closer to sleep than she had been 10 minutes earlier – or even the hour before that. Barely stifling a sigh, she quietly slipped out of bed, intent on a cup of special blend herbal tea - the remedy her mother swore by.

Sara pulled on a large warm robe as she shuffled down the hallway, taking care to avoid the creaky boards as she went. While waiting for the kettle to boil, she glanced at the calendar and was shocked to discover that, technically, it was Christmas day. She looked into the shadowed living room and realized there was no sign of the season – no decorations, not even cards resting on any of the shelves. She pondered this as she poured the tea into her favourite mug. Things had been so hectic and unsettled – and at times, downright traumatic – since she'd left Las Vegas, that she'd lost track of time.

"I'm not depressed," she finally murmured to herself. "I'm just not feeling…Christmassy. Yet."

Satisfied that the lack of any decoration has been explained, she wandered over to her laptop to catch up on email while she sipped her tea. She jumped when the computer's log on sounded and glanced quickly down the hall, but relaxed when there was no sign of movement.

Sara settled back onto the loveseat once more and began sifting through the email, smiling when she saw one from Greg. His notes were always interesting since he tended to write the way he talked – with lots of details, side trips and bizarre commentaries. Of course, for a while there had also been large portions of hurt and anger, but Sara was pretty sure they'd worked through those issues. At least, the emails had lost their edge. She bit back a sigh and hoped that Greg had lightened up where Grissom was concerned. The last thing she wanted was her best friend and her lover – fiancé! – at odds with each other.

Greg's email included a few details on a case he got called out to. She shook her head as she read about the man wanting to freak out his ex-boss by having Santa slide down the chimney. The man left his Santa costume on the roof – except for hat and boots and harness – and coated himself in lard before starting down the chimney. Unfortunately, the harness got caught on something and trapped the man mere inches from safety. His body was discovered by a thief breaking into the empty house. The teenager freaked to see the naked, bottom half of a man dangling into a fireplace and called 911. When the police arrived, he detailed how he'd discovered the body while breaking in – and was, himself, arrested.

Sara snorted when Greg went on to write that this had been only one of a series of whacked out Santa incidents – which included a stripping Santa dancing in the middle of traffic on the Strip, two Santas kung-fu fighting in a shopping mall, and an aggressive, busty, female-impersonator Santa in red leather and stiletto boots offering to spank all the bad boys and girls down at city hall.

Giggles burst through despite Sara's best efforts to smother them. Greg's commentaries were amusing and he gave just enough detail to spur her imagination into overdrive. There really was no place quite like Las Vegas.

"Sounds like someone's having fun," said a voice from the shadows.

Sara barely stifled the scream that rose in her throat. She set the laptop on the side table before turning around, but found her efforts to fully turn hindered by strong arms wrapping around her shoulders from behind.

"You scared the hell out of me." Sara complained, even as she relaxed into the embrace. "I thought you were asleep."

Grissom nuzzled her neck. "I was, but some crazy lady was giggling and laughing."

"And, of course, you had to investigate," commented Sara with a knowing smirk.

"Well, I am a trained investigator," he replied with a superior look. "It's what I do."

Needing to do a little investigating of her own, Sara began squirming in earnest, trying to face Grissom. Even with the back of the loveseat between them, Grissom was able to hold on for a while, but, laughing, ultimately found himself pulled over the back of the loveseat and draped half on and half off his crazy lady.

They stared at one another for a moment. Grissom leaned a bit closer and playfully rubbed her nose with his nose. "Hi," he whispered.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered back.

Grissom pulled back for a moment, eyes widened in mock surprise. "Why, so it is," he drawled. "I guess that means I can open my present, doesn't it?"

Sara giggled and squirmed when Grissom's oh so talented fingers began burrowing between the folds of the robe. "Hey! No tickling!"

Grissom sat back, eyeing Sara's bundled form. The tip of his tongue peeked out between parted lips. "I can't decide whether to unwrap quickly or to just peel back each layer until I get my present," he murmured. "I'm open to suggestions."

"I bet you are," she teased, reaching out to run gentle fingers over his exposed breastbone. "Hey, Gil?"

"Hmm?"

She traced the hardening nipples through the sensuous material of the robe, smiling when his eyes closed in pleasure. "Gil?"

"God, yes. Whatever you want, yes."

Sara continued to trace her fingers over the robe's skin-warmed silk. "Oh, we'll get to that, but first, I think we need to talk."

Grissom's eyes snapped open. "What?"

Sara sat up and leaned forward to brush a kiss against his lips. "You know how much I love you right?"

Grissom looked confused, but answered unhesitatingly. "Yes, of course."

Sara placed a hand against his neck. "And because I love you, you know you can tell me anything – anything at all – and I will continue to love and support you."

Grissom looked even more confused, but dutifully nodded.

"Gil, sweetheart, is there something you need to tell me? About a lifestyle choice, maybe?"

Watching her love try to make sense of the conversation, Sara decided that befuddled was a good look on him.

"Sara, I…I have no idea what you're talking about," he stammered, clearly not sure how to respond to the non sequitur.

Sara quickly looked away, lest her expression gave the game away. When she felt she was back in control, she ran one hand lightly over his silk-clad shoulder. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," she cooed gently. "It doesn't make you any less masculine in my eyes."

"Uh…" Grissom's lips moved, but no words came out.

Sara sat up, resting her arms on her upraised knees. She made no move to tug the gaping edges of the robe closed.

"Gil, you're the one who said that cross-dressing is not all the uncommon, and--"

"Wait! What? I'm not…I don't…Sara!"

It was too much for Sara, who promptly succumbed to the giggles. "You should see your face," she gasped, trying to catch her breath.

"What brought this on?" he asked in a voice hovering somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

Sara said nothing, just reached out to caress his silk-covered shoulder. She quirked an eyebrow and waited for him to make the connection.

Grissom shot her his patented 'remind me why I put up with you' glare and made a sound very much like a low growl. However, that changed at the sound of Sara's giggles.

"It's a little chilly in here," he said patiently.

"So that's why you're wearing a woman's robe, or more specifically, my robe?" she asked with patently false innocence.

"You don't approve of me in a silk robe?" he parried.

"I approve of you in anything – or nothing. The thought of you in that robe is …" she hesitated to finish the sentence.

"Is? Hot? Exotic? Erotic?" Grissom's voice dropped to a husky whisper.

"It's kind of…disturbing, actually. I know it's big on me, but on you it's…" Sara tilted her head as she considered the picture he made.

Grissom huffed. "Well, I did reach for my own robe, but it was gone."

"Gone?"

"Missing. Stolen, to be more precise. I suspect an inside job." Grissom looked pointedly at the large terry robe wrapped around Sara.

"Stolen? Are you sure it wasn't just, I don't know, maybe borrowed?"

"Sweetheart, it was taken without my permission." Grissom's look became downcast. "And at Christmas, too."

"Hey, we could investigate. That's what we do, right? Any leads?" Sara began squirming.

Grissom smirked. "Oh, I have my theories – and I plan to be very thorough in my investigation. No piece of evidence will be left uncovered, I assure you. And punishment will be meted out."

Grissom shifted slightly, but Sara saw him move and made a dive for the back of the loveseat. She squealed when he grabbed her ankle, but broke free and climbed over the back of the loveseat. Grissom, however, managed to snag the bottom of the robe and tugged hard, but could not stop Sara's naked rush down the hall.

Sara quickly dove under the covers, giggling and then winced in sympathy when she heard Grissom whack his shin against the side table – again – as he rushed after her. She wiggled in delight when he yelled something about her deserving a spanking.

Grissom threw himself onto the bed, and began digging Sara out from under the covers. Sara had barely a moment to realize that she was very much in the Christmas spirit. In that moment, she had everything she could ever want and she planned to celebrate it all year long.

_**-end-**_


End file.
